


May

by Santi_C



Series: Calendar [3]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Anxiety, Fear, Flashbacks, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santi_C/pseuds/Santi_C
Summary: A rare James POV, from me at least. Set from the morning after they reunite during (lol) Harry's date with Vernon.James struggles with his feelings as he gets used to being in a relationship with Harry.





	May

**Author's Note:**

> I've actually written half of this on a bus, so...

James rolled over and was suddenly reminded of Harry's presence. Harry had agreed to be with him, move in with him, and it was all still such a blur. There was no money exchanging hands, no son going off the rails to contend with and certainly no other man to snatch him away. James felt he had spent the whole evening with a grin on his face, his cheeks even a little sore but the rest of him felt light, even giddy. He had hoped this day would come, he had fantasised about it endlessly, but he was unsure in hindsight whether he'd ever truly thought it would. Harry had given him a lot of hope, especially in the months leading up to now, but James couldn't hand-on-heart say he thought it would culminate in Harry being his partner. Now the young man was lying asleep on his front beside him, the duvet up to his waist showing off his smooth back. James hadn't had the opportunity to wake up to him many times before, just the three, and never had the happiness lasted for long. He was determined to make the most of it, therefore, to try to live in the moment and stave off the fear and anxiety he knew would creep back in as soon as he let it. He climbed atop the sleeping boy, laying over him and landing soft, slow kisses on his back, his shoulders, his neck...

As soon as he kissed his neck, Harry stirred.  
"I _can_ feel you, you know?"  
James knew immediately what he was referring to and planted more kisses, more passionately, around his neck and ears. Harry reached behind him, his fingers spreading his cheeks to make his hole visible for James who was soon licking it clean of the traces of his appreciation.

He laid back next to Harry, now slightly shy about the fact he was smiling yet again and couldn't hide it. Harry smiled back cutely and James felt even more like a boy behind his mother's skirts. He couldn't believe this man was still making him feel this way, like they'd just met, not like he'd broken his heart a dozen times. Oh god, here they came, the doubts. James tried to push them down, tried not to worry this was yet another false hope. There were no barriers now: no scally waiting in the wings, a son on board, what more did he want? He looked at Harry once more who'd shut his eyes again and was snoozing but still with that precious smile on his face, a little look of contentment. They hadn't talked much the night before but surely it had been heavily implied this was for good? Surely James could relax now, enjoy this?

-

"You got a problem with that? Cos if you do I don't need to be here."

'That', in this case, was the love of his life returning like some loyal dog back to his good-for-nothing owner. Of course James had a problem with it, he always had and never more so than after he'd just given himself to Harry and was feeling vulnerable. He steeled himself.

"It's not a problem for me if it's not for you." 

What a lie. It felt ugly to betray himself like that but surely Harry would be lost to him if he pushed it. A few days ago, James had been in prison. Now the only scars he could bear to show were those given to him by a violent thug, in there for GBH and thus fitting company for James, himself accused of a violent murder. In truth, he was still sore from the bruises but a moment later, Harry was on him again. The love they'd made the first time gave way to whatever would help James mask his pain, and Harry his. It was lust-filled, slightly angry and over quickly.

When Harry had dressed again in silence and James had heard the front door shut behind him, it was all he could do to fight back the tears. They were angry tears, full of resentment, but all they did was prick his eyes and leave them red as if he'd rubbed them. Harry leaving him always hurt but added to James' yearning and resentment was now a sense of self-loathing. A voice in his head castigated him for believing it was really him that Harry wanted, for why else had he come back after sleeping with him only yesterday? Why had he off-loaded all his fears onto him in the prison visiting room? Why had that felt to James as if they were already going out, it all so natural? And yet the boy trotted back to his loser boyfriend and those bratty kids like clockwork. That was somehow the better choice in his eyes, the one that he was happy to display to the world whilst James remained in the shadows, apparently unable to put up a resistance to having Harry in his bed, on his sofa, against his wall. What did that say about him?

Would he ever turn him away, say enough is enough, or was he the real loser, taking the crumbs he was given whilst top dog was a chav with a clapped-out van, HIV and a usual of lime and soda? James hated himself.

-

"I'm glad you guys are back together but FYI everyone can hear the banging. You might wanna invest in a rug or a softer headboard," Romeo said casually as James walked into the kitchen. Mortified, the latter said nothing, fixating on the task of making coffee. "I'll be out today anyway," Romeo continued, a twinkle in his eye for some reason and in a flash, he was out the door making good on his promise.

He was a strange boy, James thought, motivating his father to get back with Harry, attending in person to make sure he didn't fluff his lines. He supposed he was a romantic, and that warmed his heart somewhat, but it was still something James needed to get his head around. Romeo seemed very comfortable around them, seemed much more confident as a sixteen year old than James could relate to. He'd been a nervous adolescent, scared of his father, scared of the feelings that stirred inside of him, his hormones cruelly making him attracted one-by-one to half the straight boys in the school, the fit ones anyway. James hadn't dared to sleep with any man until he was almost a year into university, the halls rep inviting him into his room a few weeks before the end of term.

That experience was one he could take or leave but it had set the wheels in motion. James soon realised he didn't have to try that hard to get men into his bed, the only thing that seemed impossible was getting them to stay. A guy who'd entertained him a few times once, out of nowhere, asked him why he was so weird and James' childhood flooded back in an instant. He didn't sleep with anyone for a few months after that as he realised existing among people different because of their sexuality did not give him some fast pass to acceptability. He was as weird in the gay world as he was weird in the straight one and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He stood awkwardly in the kitchen, thinking about the contrast between Romeo's matter-of-fact approach to his relationship versus the abject fear that epitomised his own, until Harry walked in looking adorable. He must have clocked James' expression, his nervousness, because he came round to envelop him in his big arms finally looking up at him and providing him with reassurance.

“I think we're alone now, aren't we?”

James couldn't. He wanted to be care-free and cool about it all but his anxiety was almost banging against his chest. 

Harry looked extremely concerned. “Hey, what's wrong? You're not having second thoughts?”

“No,” James blurted out quickly, almost startling them both. “No, I'm fine,” he said with conviction yet convincing nobody.

“Okay, well, what is it? Come on, James, I've seen every side to you. I'm not going anywhere so spill.”

James kissed him. He didn't want to talk. If he talked now, he'd ruin it. Harry didn't need to hear the ridiculous fears about how he'd leave him the second he realised James had no idea how to be happy, with him or in general. Harry hesitated momentarily, he always wanted to get to the bottom of things but James persisted and, trying to hide the effort it took, he lifted Harry onto the counter ensuring neither could stop for breath, nor could destructive thoughts take over. 

-

“Which really hammered home how ridiculous it is I've been running around, demeaning myself, chasing a little twink like you.”

James started to force Harry from his house, blood pounding in his ears as the boy pleaded with him. “You want this. You want us.”

“What I want,” he shouted over him, “is for you to go. This conversation is over. There isn't _anything_ left between us.”

James was absolutely wired, adrenaline pumping through him and working alone to keep him from collapsing into a mess of tears, grief and ragged emotion. He looked at the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, the empty bottles telling a story he was barely aware of. The fact was, he didn't even feel drunk, he felt wretched and stretched to breaking point by wave after wave of unrelenting disappointment. His so-called son, so-called father, so-called lover; what japes! Could no one bring him any normalcy at all? Did everyone have to stab him in the heart today and twist the knife that little bit further? It felt so porous he thought he wouldn't notice if it collapsed in on itself. 

Harry had promised he wouldn't go ahead with the wedding and yet he'd turned up on his doorstep a married man, somehow thinking James would take him back. Did he really have such a low opinion of him that he thought James would march to his drum, jump whenever he clapped his hands? The heartache James had had to endure these last few months on the promise Harry would choose him over Ste. Ste! Was it such a hard choice? Were these really the actions of someone who loved him? Or were they just words used to placate him? 

His head swam. There was so much to take in and he couldn't handle anything else. He'd made a human being, a human being his father had known about all these years and kept from him because it wasn't enough to just make him take part in his sadistic experiments, he had to grind his nose in the dirt. And there was no doubt from the moment Romeo had started explaining that he was his relation, the added confirmation when his fist clashed into James' face with the same venom his own father had reserved for him over the years. Venom because he liked boys and what had he gained from that? The only man he loved had let him down in the worst way possible, on the worst day possible, and yet Harry wanted to pick up where they'd left off as if he'd not just told someone else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with them? Not a chance. 

The hangover would be excruciating and he wasn't talking about the whiskey. 

-

“Hey, worry pot. Guess what? Our five day anniversary.”

“You'll excuse the lack of a card,” James teased, as he suddenly heard fully what Harry had said. “Worry pot?”

“You think I don't notice these things? Your sock drawer has been categorised by colour and everything in the bathroom is now at the same angle from the window.”

“I'm...” James began, the quizzical look on his face half-hearted as he conceded Harry probably could tell how he'd been feeling, if not quite how intensely. “Well, I'm very appreciative that you're here.”

“You could show it,” Harry replied, tongue in cheek.

“I thought I had been.”

“Not like that. There are other ways, you know?”

“I opened the Krug for you. You said it's your favourite.”

“It is. Very delicious. I was more hoping you could show me by relaxing a little bit now, outside of the bedroom.” 

“I'm relaxed.”

“James, I can practically feel you expecting our impending doom. I'm here to stay, you're my boyfriend now and that means my complete and utter commitment to you, my undivided attention, and,” Harry left a beat for effect, “you thinking ahead with me in the picture.”

James smiled like someone embarrassed at receiving praise. “That all sounds rather pleasant.”

“Pleasant?”

“Normal, mundane, all I ever wanted.”

Now it was James' turn to see Harry taken aback. His face took a few moments to know what to do with itself until James saw an enormous smile flash across it, and then some laughter. 

“As if you, James Nightingale, could live any sort of mundane life with your fancy statues and ornaments and a wine glass collection that cost more than what most people earn in a month.”

“So don't break them,” James smiled back. 

“I won't,” Harry said earnestly.


End file.
